


Make it better, make it right... (Blood and tears)

by selflessbellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst/Comfort, Cuties on a rescue mission, F/M, Hopeless!Clarke, post s02e01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 21:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2522690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selflessbellamy/pseuds/selflessbellamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clarke wants to give up, Bellamy can always make it better, always make it right…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make it better, make it right... (Blood and tears)

_Don’t think. Just run._

Covered in mud whilst haunting shadows of hopelessness made their slow, painful way to her most powerful tool; her heart. She would without it, have lost an eternity ago, since for an uncountable number of days, it had only been her and the heart running on adrenaline in her chest, and even though nearly overpowered several times, still beating for a little while longer.

It at times hurt to keep going, with so many bad memories laying comfortably within some of these people, if not to mention her mother, who continued to look at Clarke like she was entitled to do so.

But then there was him; the lone man, who accompanied her on missions like this one, which would most likely go wrong and result in death. Yet, they had no time to wait for the adults to make up their confused minds, and even less time to think about how scary it was, having to save them alone.

"I can’t do this anymore!" That had to be the first thing she had said for hours, and he was not really surprised by the fact that it had come to turn into a scream. A frustrated scream.

All Clarke wanted to do, was fall to the ground, wipe the blood off of her cheeks and give in to her mind, which constantly told her that they were never going to make it to Mount Weather alive.

So she did. Or almost, because of course, Bellamy would never let that happen; perhaps that was why he insisted on coming in the first place. He knew it would happen. And didn’t want her to be alone.

"Don’t make me carry you, Princess. We still have five miles to go." Like that helped, but it was his only words; the others did not want to be said or heard.

_At least not right now._

Sliding down in siting position against the cold, rough bark of a tree trunk, Clarke obviously stated silently, that he had to carry her, if they in his mind still should make it to the mountain by morning.

"It was your idea. You can’t give up on them." Bellamy whispered, crouching down to look into her eyes, they were storming in the glowing moonlight, and tears filled them; however it was still a gaze filled with willpower, showing him that she had no intension of giving up just yet. She just thought she had.

"I’m done."

"You’re not." Could he possibly be more annoying than right now? He said something, though; words that for once, meant more than they seemed to.

Looking into his dark eyes, his face just as smeared with blood as her own, the feeling of exhaustion roaming within her began decreasing.

_He made it better._

So many thoughts that had been running through her mind; her mother and Kane, the others, Mount Weather, Murphy, Raven and even for one second, Wells, went up in smoke as Bellamy wiped the tears and blood from her cheeks, not caring about what she might’ve thought about it. But still, his hand hovered a little in mid-air as he took it away from her skin.

Then there was another long look mixed with a rusty; _"Forgive me."_ Before he pressed his lips to hers, the comforting hand on her shoulder traveling to her hair, which was filled with dirt and dried leaves from falling to the ground. Clarke placed her hand at the back of his neck, greedily pulling him closer, so their legs entangled.

He tasted like blood, dirt and a hope, which she desperately needed more off; she let it fill her up, almost consume her until Bellamy, upon pulling on her lower lip, broke the kiss. Without saying anything, he shot a meaningful glance at her, standing up and gesturing to the road ahead.

She could continue, she _would_ continue.

_Because he made it right._


End file.
